Riding in a taxicab in Nashville, Tennessee, I was berating myself for the thoughts I was allowing myself to think. Primarily, what is a nice, Jewish woman doing south of the Mason-Dixon Line?
If I belonged south of New York City, it would surely be in Baltimore, Atlanta or a Jewish enclave in Florida. However, I had just met with members of the Nashville Jewish community, a sophisticated and knowledgeable bunch who feel quite comfortable in their circumstances, and my unease seemed baseless. They have a Yeshiva, synagogues, nice Jewish neighborhoods and even kosher meat available at the Wal-Mart in this charming southern city.
So what was I worried about? Why was I ill at ease? Of course, it is politically correct to believe that anti-Semitism doesn't exist anymore anyplace north, south, east or west.
I always talk to strangers when I travel trying to transform routine moments into little adventures. You hear all kinds of things. Recently, a NYC cab driver gave me advice about hiring someone to "knock off" unpleasant in-laws. I've learned about waiter's kids, bus driver's illnesses and the political viewpoint of anyone sitting next to me on the train. It doesn't take much to get people talking; just a question or two about themselves.
So, I said to my Nashville chauffeur, "It's not often that you get a cab driver in New York City who speaks English." He replied, "Thank goodness, we don't hire foreigners here." I chafed. "Or Blacks," he went on. I bristled. "How about Jews?" I asked. He laughed. "They don't do this kind of work. But I sure like to get them as customers. They pay a lot." "How do you know when it's a Jew in your cab?" I wondered aloud. "You just know," he explained.
I could have chalked this experience up to this man's ignorance; just like whenever they find graffiti scrawled on a synagogue wall people dismiss it by saying "it was just kids."
But I recently had a more uncomfortable experience in the north than my taxi ride in Tennessee. I know a physician who had converted to Judaism. A tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Aryan looking fellow with a nondescript surname, he explained that people make derogatory comments and jokes about Jews when they think there is no Jew in the room. These remarks come from educated, northern professionals.
The public institutional anti-Semitism of a generation ago is fading, and there are laws against blatant discrimination. But even now at the turn of the century, a quiet, personal anti-Semitic bias is still alive and kicking. But some don't like to talk about it as if the mere mention of this insidious form of bigotry helps activate it.
We talk about the Holocaust; that happened someplace else and in the past. We can even discuss anti-Semitism elsewhere in Eastern Europe. But try relating something said to you to the good old U.S.A., and you will likely be told that it's only your imagination, that you're being overly sensitive or that it's impossible in this day and age. Or you'll be regaled with tales about how you're confidant loves everyone no matter what religion, and that they have many Jewish friends. Even Jewish acquaintances don't want to hear about such incidents so they can pretend that we are totally accepted into American culture.
On the whole, we have it good in America. But do many people still have preconceptions about our being Jewish? You bet. And it would be nice to be able to talk about it from time to time without being accused of paranoia.
At a work staff meeting a social worker friend asked me what Jewish people do on Xmas. I love that question, and I couldn't wait to tell her about our family's tradition of going to see brand new movies without having to wait on long lines. Before I could finish, she said, "that makes sense, movies must be cheaper that day." Stinging. There was silence in the room and then after a few seconds, it was back to normal. Nobody said anything to her including me.
Repeating the story over the years, I inevitably, hear some variation of "I'm sure she didn't mean it the way you took it." Well, I was there and she meant it exactly the way she said it although she was probably sorry it came out. I wish someone would just say something like, "such a remark really hurts, I'm sorry you experienced that."
It's not that I see the KKK lurking around every corner, but we should know and realize that these prejudices exist. Like anything else in life, it is good to have our feelings validated so they can see the light of day and not be ignored and swept under the rug.
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